Ducal Encounters In the Duke’s Estimation

“It ought to be safe enough,” Nate replied, rubbing his gloved hands together to ward off the crippling chill. “Whether or not I shall freeze to death before I get there is another matter.”

Zach laughed. “A little fresh air won’t harm you.”

Nate shook his head. “As always, Your Grace, you’re given to understatement.”

The temperature was several degrees below freezing and the ground would be icy beneath the horses’ hooves. He was driving Zach’s fastest travelling chaise but would not be able to take advantage of the speed it was capable of due to the conditions. He raised his whip in salute to his brother and encouraged his team forward with a sharp slap of the reins.

Higgins was on the box seat beside him, wrapped up in several layers of clothing, only his eyes visible above his muffler and below the low brim of his hat. Nate’s valet was an ideal travelling companion, speaking only when addressed, or if there was a particular aspect of the journey that he thought Nate should know about. Thus relieved of the responsibility of conversation, Nate had only to concentrate on his team as he set them to as fast a pace as he dared on the Guildford road.

With his mind free to wander, he pondered upon his activities of the previous evening, wondering what the devil had caused him to act so rashly. His position at the dining table afforded him a view through the half open doorway. Instead of following the other ladies into the drawing room, Katrina had headed for the stairs. She had expressed a desire to see Zach’s portrait for herself earlier that evening and Nate was damned if Sean Trafford would be the one to show it to her, even if, as the artist’s grandson, he was the most qualified to do so. Nate quit the dining room, unnoticed by the rest of the gentlemen who were engaged in an earnest discussion about the new king’s latest exploits and the ramifications thereof, and followed her up the stairs.

He watched her for some time before she realised he was there, admiring her profile as it was cast in light and shadow by the flickering wall lights, enhancing the translucent quality of her creamy skin and the delicacy of her features. She appeared to be muttering to herself as she tilted her head and examined the portrait from all angles, filling Nate with curiosity as to the nature of her thoughts. He wanted her to enjoy Zach’s casual pose because Trafford had managed to capture a rare glimpse of the real duke which he seldom allowed others to see. Somehow Nate wasn’t surprised when she commented upon that fact before he did.

Quite how he had finished up dancing with her in the frigid night air and, God forbid, singing too, he had yet to decide. He had kept the fact that his singing voice had not deserted him with the onset of puberty a closely guarded secret from everyone and yet didn’t seem to mind her knowing. He was sure she would respect his confidence but that failed to explain why he had put her in the position of needing to do so.

Confound it, he thought, slowing his team so he could safely negotiate a series of deep frozen ruts in the road, he appeared incapable of rational behaviour when anywhere near her! What other excuse could there be for his having stolen a kiss? What they had shared was not his notion of a passionate kiss but he had promised she would live to experience one, unfairly exciting her expectations.

Expectations of what precisely? She seemed determined, once she had worked her way through her list of pleasurable activities, to marry that dullard Brown. He was unsure if that knowledge made him feel safe enough to let his guard down or whether he wanted to curse the man to hell and back because he would stifle Katrina’s natural vivacity and try to make her into something she patently was not.

Or because he wanted Katrina for himself?

He jerked hard on the reins, startling his team and causing the carriage to rock on its springs rather violently as that thought popped unbidden into his head. Ye gods, surely he was not that far gone? Lady Katrina was a compelling little minx, a pleasurable variation from the dull, dutiful misses who were usually foisted upon him during the season. But he was far too young to be thinking about settling down. And yet the suffocating feeling that usually gripped him whenever his mother so much as hinted at his fixing his interest upon any particular lady failed to materialise.

With Higgins arranging for the horses to be changed twice during the course of their journey, they made good time and arrived in the village of Jacobs Well before the sun set. Nate had always enjoyed visiting Mansfield, one of the larger properties that formed part of the Sheridan family’s estate. As the youngest boy, Nate had often accompanied his father when he checked up on their Guildford property, being too young at the time to join his brothers at Eton. Guildford, like Winchester, was a cathedral town and it was the church that had brought Nate’s grandmother to his grandfather’s attention. Grandmama’s own father was the Bishop of Guildford and had occasion to visit his counterpart in Winchester on ecclesiastical business. When Nate’s grandfather first set eyes upon the bishop’s daughter he was captivated by her beauty and sweetness of character. When they married, Mansfield was gifted to the then duke in lieu of a dowry.

Nate slowed the conveyance to walking pace as they passed the driveway to Heston Hall. It was a small estate and the house was easily visible from the road. No smoke came from the chimneys, which was odd. He would have thought that in this weather at least one fire would be set in the drawing room to keep mustiness out of the atmosphere. There was no sign of habitation, either in the house or the grounds that Nate could detect. Curious. No matter. He had promised Katrina he would ensure all was well, providing him with a legitimate excuse to call at the property unannounced and check on it personally.

He arrived at Mansfield and was pleased to see smoke coming from the chimneys of the old manor house. He was equally pleased when he drove into an immaculate stable yard and a groom came running to take the horses. Radford, Zach’s steward at Mansfield, appeared from nowhere and greeted Nate, showing no surprise at his unannounced arrival.

“I anticipated that His Grace would send someone to check on us,” he said by way of greeting. “And I am mighty glad to see you, Lord Nate.”

“How are you, Radford?” Nate shook the man’s hand as they walked together towards the house, Nate stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together to restore feeling to his numbed extremities. “Filthy conditions for a long drive.”

“You made the journey from London in one day?”

“There seemed little benefit in delaying.”

Nate could recall just how energetic Radford had been when he used to visit with his father. He showed signs of his advancing years now, but having been born in a cottage in the grounds of Mansfield, Nate knew he was dedicated to the place and honest as the day was long. But he also seemed preoccupied, probably because he didn’t know how to deal with the outbreak of unrest sweeping the country that manifested itself in unlawful activities. Nate couldn’t really blame him for that. Most landowners troubled by lawless gangs were similarly perplexed.

Mrs. Radford was cook and housekeeper and the couple lived in an apartment above the stables. With the help of just two maids she kept the interior of the house warm, clean and welcoming. Nate shed his greatcoat, hat and gloves and Higgins took charge of them, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen, presumably to get warm himself. Mrs. Radford appeared and bobbed a curtsey.

“We’ve been expecting you, my lord. Are you ready for your supper straight away?”

“I won’t deny that I’m sharp set, Mrs. Radford,” he replied affably, holding his hands out to the blazing fire. “Whatever you have ready for me would be greatly appreciated.”

“Would you like to discuss the missing cattle at once, my lord?” Radford asked, looking uncomfortable, presumably because he blamed himself for their loss.

“No, Radford. First thing in the morning will suffice. I’d like to ride the estate with you and see if we can fathom out how to prevent further thefts. We can’t do that in the pitch dark and freezing cold.”

“Right you are.”

“How many other local landowners lost livestock, Radford?”

“Three that I’m aware of, my lord. Oh, and the earl, of course.”

“They even raided the earl’s estate?” Nate raised a brow. “They are daring, I’ll give them that. Send my compliments to the three neighbours who lost stock and ask them to call on me here tomorrow at eleven, Radford.”

“Can I ask what you have in mind, my lord?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll tell you after we’ve taken a look at the lie of the land tomorrow.”

Radford bobbed his head and disappeared. Nate poured a substantial measure of brandy to help warm himself up while he waited for Mrs. Radford to prepare his supper. He sipped at it reflectively, remembering the happy hours he had spent in this house with his father, enjoying the pater’s full and undivided attention—a rare and special treat given that he was one of six. He felt at home here and was glad that he was now the one responsible for Mansfield’s prosperity. It seemed fitting and he was determined not to mismanage the task Zach had entrusted to him.

“I expect you’d prefer to eat in here,” Mrs. Radford said, bustling into the drawing room with a laden tray. “It’s warmer than the dining room and you’re not one to stand on ceremony.”

“You’re in the right of it,” Nate replied, seating himself at the small table in the window embrasure, the chill of the night shut out by thick drapes. “That smells delicious.”

Nate ate quickly, then called to Higgins for his greatcoat. Thus protected from the elements he donned his hat and gloves and strode briskly in the direction of the village a mile away. He wanted more information about Katrina’s family and her father’s attachment to Brown. And the taproom in the Ram’s Head was just the place to obtain it.

It was perishing cold but the sky was crystal clear with a near full moon to light Nate’s path. Fuelled by Mrs. Radford’s excellent mutton stew and the claret he’d consumed with it, Nate found the walk invigorating and barely felt the cold, even though he could see his breath in front of his face as he strode along and his boots crunched and slithered on the icy ground. He heard laughter and singing coming from the tavern before he even reached it. A freezing night wasn’t sufficient to keep the residents of Jacobs Well quietly at home, which was precisely what Nate had been depending upon.

He pushed open the door to the taproom, briefly letting in a blast of frigid air. He latched the door quickly, removed his hat and made his way to the bar. Conversation briefly stopped as the occupants looked him over. Some recognised him, nodded deferentially and resumed their conversations.

Nate glanced over his shoulder and noticed Jed Armstrong seated beside the peat fire, right where he’d always sat for as long as Nate had been frequenting the place. Nothing of consequence occurred in Jacobs Well without Jed knowing about it. He had been employed all his working life as a woodsman at the biggest estate in the area, owned by the Earl of Surrey and he still lived in the tied cottage that went with his employment.

Nate purchased two tankards of excellent local ale from the pretty barmaid, exchanged a few flirtatious words with her and then carried them across to Jed’s table.

“Jed, do you mind if I join you?” Nate asked, placing one of the tankards in front of the old man and taking the seat across from him.

“Free country,” Jed replied, nodding his thanks for the ale. “Well, it used to be. No telling what’ll happen now we’ve got that spendthrift buffoon for a king.”

“I shouldn’t let it worry you,” Nate said, taking an appreciative sip of the spicy ale. “Parliament won’t let him get too carried away.”

“Huh, them lot is as bad as the king, if you ask me.”

Nate laughed. “You’re probably right about that.”

“Happen you’re here about them stolen cattle,” Jed said after a short pause. “Others lost some an’ all.”

“That I am, Jed. Any idea who did it?”

“I’d have shot ’em with me blunderbuss if I did,” he snarled. “Darned thieving wastrels. Don’t know what the world’s coming to and that’s a fact.”

“Aye well, I expect they’re long gone by now.” Nate paused, conscious of the old man assessing him through sapient eyes, probably wondering what Nate really wanted with him. He must know he wouldn’t seek his help about the stolen cattle. Not that he would ever ask Nate’s true purpose. He’d wait for Nate to get around to telling him. “What can you tell me about a man called Brown?” he asked, duly obliging.

“Common enough name,” Jed replied, sniffing.

“A good friend of Lord Heston’s, so I hear.”

“Ah, that Brown.” Jed took a long pull on his ale and appeared to be thinking. Nate was content to leave him to his cogitations, aware that he’d speak when he had something to say. “Old Brown died a few years back.” Jed scratched his head. “More than a few, now I come to think about it. The years pass in a blur when you get to be my age. He and Heston were close neighbours.”

“What was Brown’s occupation?” Nate asked.

Nate permitted his surprise to show. “Around these parts? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Doubt that you would have,” Jed replied, wiping ale from his lips with the back of his hand. “Landowner is probably too grand a description for old Brown. More like country gent, I suppose. Well, that’s what he tried to make out he was but I don’t think he fooled many people. He lived in the old farm house up at Callow Hill and didn’t seem to do much other than enjoy himself. Only had about twenty acres. Too small to be noticed by you, most like.”

“Heston’s place is bigger?”

Jed shrugged. “Three times as much land. Still not much by your standards but it adjoins Brown’s, which could be how they came to know one another. Course, Heston was destined to follow his father into government service. Brown, on the other hand, didn’t seem to like the idea of honest work and so struggled to make ends meet. Bit of a gambler by all accounts.” The ale appeared to have loosened Jed’s tongue and nudged his memory. “Then there was all that trouble, which is when everything changed.”

“What trouble?” Nate asked, sitting a little straighter.

“What sort of trouble do young men always get into?” Jed replied, shrugging his massive shoulders. “It were over a woman, obviously. Pretty as a picture, so she was. A guest of the earl’s. Some sort of relation. Not too sure what happened.” Jed made the admission grudgingly. He took pride in his local knowledge and probably hated not being able to supply Nate with all the particulars. “Anyway, there were a right to-do. Heston fell for the gal. So did a young man who was also a guest of the earl’s. That young man left the district to return home, leaving the field clear for Heston. Next thing we know, the other man…what was his name?” Jed scratched his head. “Just a minute, it’ll come to me. Ah, Davis, that was it. Well, he never made it home and no one found out what became of him.”

“Right. The earl took a personal interest in searching for him, what with him having last been seen on his estate. I was one of the people who helped with the search. Went on for weeks, so it did, but nothing turned up.”

“How was Davis travelling? Did he have his own carriage or horse?”

“Nah, one of the earl’s people drove him into Guildford and he was supposed to get the public coach back to London. When he didn’t arrive, his father came down to look for him, thinking he was still here. He wasn’t. Enquiries were made all the way to London at all the posting inns but no one had seen him.” Jed’s gnarled fingers closed around the handle of his tankard. “Don’t know to this day what became of him.”

“And the girl?” Nate asked, his suspicions on high alert. “Presumably that left the field clear for Heston.”

“Hardly.” Jed flapped a hand. “She was whisked away by her family. They were anxious to avoid a scandal. I don’t know what became of her. What I do know is that Brown and Heston became right friendly after that and Brown’s circumstances took a turn for the better. Heston married and they had a daughter late in life. Then when Brown died, oh it must have been a good ten years or more ago, Heston took responsibility for the son. He paid for his schooling and made sure he got taken on by some government department when he left university.”

“And he now owns the family home in Callow Hill, I imagine.”

“You’d be wrong there. It were sold soon after Brown senior died. I heard tell he’d run up gambling debts again.”

Nate bought Jed another tankard of ale but the conversation became more general after that. He had clearly told Nate everything he knew about Heston’s history with Brown, which threw up more questions than it answered.

He thanked Jed and traipsed home through light snow, thinking about what he’d learned. Heston clearly had been passionate as a young man. Passionate about a lady who perhaps did not return his regard because she preferred another gentleman. A gentleman who disappeared under questionable circumstances. A local mystery that was never solved. He could of course have fallen prey to highwaymen on his return journey to join his father, but it seemed unlikely if he was travelling by public coach. A coach which, according to Jed, he didn’t board. Apparently the driver and passengers were questioned and hadn’t seen Davis. Even more unlikely was the friendship between Brown and Heston after the rival’s disappearance.